


CCC

by OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Holidays, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Riddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: Mycroft is acting quite odd, but Greg's not too fussed at working out what's going on. He's sure they'll get there eventually.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	CCC

“Where are we, Mycroft?” Greg said.

“The Hotel le Normandy,” Mycroft said. “Vernon, France.” He smiled. “Room CCC, no less.”

Greg blinked. “We’re in France?”

“Three hundred glorious miles from London,” Mycroft said.

“Amazing,” Greg breathed. “And we’re here because…”

“I’m confident you’ll work it out, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft said with a smile.

“Okay,” Greg said. The suspicion didn’t last and he wrapped his arms around Mycroft, grinning before he pressed a kiss against his mouth. When the kiss broke, Greg asked, “And why are we here?”

“A very important feature of this hotel,” Mycroft replied. “Are you ready?”

“I guess so,” Greg replied, dropping another lingering kiss on Mycroft. He wound their fingers together. “Let’s go!”

Mycroft led him downstairs, watching as Greg recognised the distinctive room.

“A private bowling alley?” He grinned. “Seriously?”

“Indeed,” Mycroft replied. “If you’re prepared to try your luck?”

“Of course,” Greg said. “Won’t be about luck, though.” This was unexpected but he could sense something tying things together, he just wasn’t sure what it was yet. Besides, he was fairly sure Mycroft wouldn’t be able to resist adding more and more clues until Greg figured it out.

After they bowled – in which Mycroft showed a surprising amount of coordination to throw an almost perfect game – Greg turned to him. “What next?” he asked.

“A short drive,” Mycroft told him. He was watching Greg carefully, but there was no hint to whatever he might be trying to say.

_Bowling? Why bowling?_

“Nice car,” Greg remarked as they slid into their ride.

“A Lexus ES 300,” Mycroft murmured. He glanced at Greg. “I must ask – we have two options for our meal this evening. Greek versus Persian.”

Greg frowned, the odd phrasing tugging at his brain. It reminded him of something…

“Persian,” he said. “Nothing could compare to that place at home, what was it called?”

“Thermopylae?” Mycroft suggested.

“No,” Greg said, “Isn’t it Athena?”

“Ah yes, of course,” Mycroft replied. As if he wasn’t being suspicious enough, his lip definitely twitched, confirming that the restaurant exchange was definitely significant.

_France._

_Bowling._

_Greeks versus Persians._

Greg raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. It was all part of Mycroft’s plan, clearly. “Radio?” he asked, switching it on. Rap music blasted out as the CD player came on and they both winced until Greg managed to extract it.

“Jesus,” he muttered, looking at the disc. “ _300 Entertainment_ ,” he read. Recognition tingled across the back of his neck. “Three hundred,” he whispered.

Something fired in his brain. “Mycroft,” he asked, “why did we take a commercial flight here?”

Mycroft glanced at him, pulling their car over. “Our aircraft was an Airbus A300,” he said, his words apparently answering Greg’s question. “Would you mind stepping out?”

Greg blinked, but Mycroft was already gone. He scrambled out to follow Mycroft, realising it was not a random place but a deliberate space beside the river. Mycroft stood, hands in his pockets, so Greg joined him, his mind racing.

_Airbus A300._

_Thermopylae._

_Greeks versus Persians._

_Lexus ES 300._

_Room CCC._

_Bowling._

_Vernon, France, three hundred miles from London._

_Three hundred._

“Three hundred,” Greg murmured. “It’s about three hundred?”

“It is,” Mycroft said. “Do you know why?”

“No,” Greg said, though his heart was beating hard. “Will you tell me?”

Mycroft nodded. He turned to Greg, eyes roaming his face before he spoke. “Our first date – May fourteeth last year,” he said.

Greg nodded. Mycroft was waiting for the penny to drop, so Greg was thinking hard. It was March…something. Tenth, he thought. How long ago was May? Like, nine months? Ten? Wait…

“Three hundred days ago,” Greg blurted.

“Yes,” Mycroft said, a relieved smile braking over his face as he reached for Greg’s hands. “Three hundred glorious days. The best three hundred days of my life.”

Greg grinned, his heart almost bursting as he realised how much effort it must have taken to get them here. “You went bowling for me,” he grinned.

“I did,” Mycroft smiled. “Worth every moment of those shoes.”

**Author's Note:**

> A three hundred themed story for my three hundredth story! Unbelievable to think I've written so much in the last (ahem) years. This fandom has become family, and I treasure each and every person who's ever left kudos, commented, encouraged me, pointed out mistakes, offered prompts, squee'd at me on twitter or tumblr, or bid on something in an auction. Without you the writing wouldn't exist, and I am deeply grateful to be a part of such a wonderful community.  
> <3 Blue


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